


The Three Hunters

by Mira



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-12
Updated: 2009-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney couldn't sit still; he orbited around Teyla, squirming his way along the side decks to the bow, peering into the foaming water beneath them, then back to the stern to study the little motor, still sounding a bit rough to his ears, then down the companionway into the galley and on into the forward cabin and so back to Teyla.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> With lovely [ artwork](http://mirabile-dictu.slashcity.net/_Pictures/3Hunters_almost-clara.jpg) by [Almost-Clara](http://almost-clara.livejournal.com).

"Hang on!" someone bellowed, and the ferry rolled beneath Rodney's feet. He grabbed onto John and Teyla, bending his knees to brace against the swells. Torren wailed loud enough that Rodney could hear him over the frightened roar of the crowd and the chugging engines. The ferry wallowed and for an instant Rodney thought it was sinking, it moved so slowly and steadily _down_. Then it sluggishly rose and turned away from land, but not fast enough, not far enough; the wave was coming toward them amidships, rising higher and higher, a solid gray wall with a thin curl of dirty white froth.

He looked away, and saw Ronon staring up at the wave, his face slack with what Rodney guessed was fear -- it wasn't a look he'd seen before on Ronon. Then John grabbed Ronon's arm and pulled him into their midst, nearly knocking over a heavy-set man and his partner.

Ronon pushed his face near John's and shouted, "We need something to hold on to!"

Rodney thought that was transparently obvious, but what? There was no room below; they hadn't been able to get even Teyla and Torren below decks. They were squashed into the middle of the crowd in the bow, swaying like drunkards. Every millimeter of space on the deck was taken; they had no chance of working their way to the railing or the deckhouse, not unless they shot their way through. He held on tighter to Teyla and John, pulling Teyla between them and squeezing closer. Ronon looked around wildly, seizing John and Rodney around their shoulders.

"It's coming!" a woman screamed, and Teyla -- beautiful, strong Teyla -- began to cry, clutching Torren even tighter. He was old enough to have a mind of his own and big enough to kick _hard_, and he'd decided he'd had enough.

"No, Mama, no!" he cried, struggling to push out of her arms, but she hung on, and John let go of Rodney to put his hand on Torren's back.

"Hey, TJ," Rodney saw John say, but the volume had increased too much to hear anything; even when Rodney shouted at Torren to be a good boy, he could hear nothing but sobbing and shrieking and the roar of the ocean and the deep vibration of the ferry's engine. Then the water broke over them, a sudden drenching, and they were jerked first aft and then to port as the overloaded ferry rose with the body of the wave, higher and higher. Rodney was thrown to his knees, still clenching John's shirt, and he heard Teyla's voice but he couldn't see her, he couldn't see anything but grey water and foam; it flooded his mouth, his nose, his eyes, his ears. Under water he could still hear the engine's pistons slamming irregularly. He forced himself to open his eyes but only bubbles and froth filled his vision. He held his breath as long as he could, and thought _I'm going to drown_. He exhaled hugely and --

He popped to the surface, choking on the oily water, coughing and gagging. The world was in turmoil, people swimming across the slowly re-appearing deck, the railings smashed, the deckhouse open to the sky, the crew shouting and shouting. He coughed again, spat, coughed more, then vomited up a little water. Tears poured down his face; his throat and lungs hurt so much, and he couldn't find the others. "John!" he tried to shout, but only choked. The water rushed over the deck, knocking him back to his hands and knees. "John!"

He heard Teyla wailing, her voice as recognizable to him as his own. Using his shoulders, he shoved his way through the crush of people floundering on the deck, grabbing anything to help him reach Teyla. "John!" he bawled at the top of his lungs, "John Patrick Sheppard!"

Teyla's voice was lost to him in the clamour as the ferry began to rise again; he lurched on his hands and knees, soaking wet, gasping for oxygen; he no longer knew where he was going, but he had to keep going. The deck tilted beneath him and he skidded forward, flat on his stomach, inchworming his way around the weeping, bleeding bodies. He reached the railing on the port bow and clung to it, raising himself to his bruised knees. Looking behind him, he saw another wave, and fuck, it loomed higher and darker than the prior wave. "Ronon! Teyla! _John_!" he shouted again, then something slammed into him from behind.

"McKay!" Ronon said, wrapping his arms around Rodney, who let go of the railing to hang onto Ronon. "Where are the others?"

"Dunno," Rodney said, coughing. His throat burned and his chest ached. "Hang on, Ronon, there's another --"

"I know," he said, and pulled Rodney down, then rolled on top of him. "Don't let go," he said, and took a deep breath.

The wave broke high above the ship this time, rather than rolling over it, but the air filled with water and Rodney's battered lungs struggled for each waterlogged breath. He had a pocket of air between Ronon's chest and arm; he clung tightly to Ronon who managed to keep them together. When the water rushed away, Ronon pulled back, snorted, and shook his head, water flying into Rodney's face, but he didn't care; they were still together. Now they could find the others.

Ronon pulled him to his feet; Rodney held onto Ronon's vest, but Ronon grabbed his hands and pulled them around his waist. They staggered like drunkards through the press of wet and frightened people, all crying out for help, for safety, for lost family and friends. "Sorry, sorry," Rodney apologized each time they barreled into someone, but he wasn't, not really. Then he heard Teyla's voice again. "There!" he shouted into Ronon's ear, and was dragged forward.

The water had knocked John and Teyla from the bow halfway down the ferry, to where the enormous gates were locked amidships on the port side, water pouring through every opening. They seemed to be struggling with each other more than with the rolling deck, John pulling Teyla away from the gates.

"John!" Rodney cried and reached out for him, but then he realized something was wrong, something terrible. John's face was white and, when he turned to Rodney, his eyes were wild, Teyla was sobbing, and both were visibly trembling, muscles standing out in bas relief beneath their soaked clothes. For a few seconds he couldn't understand, and then he realized that Torren was gone.

"Torren!" Rodney howled. John looked at him and opened his mouth, but suddenly Ronon shouted, "I see him." He shoved Rodney into John and Teyla, who both stumbled and half fell, and then Ronon leapt over the railing and into the water. He swam powerfully away from the ferry, which had begun to rise again letting Rodney see farther, but he couldn't see Torren, only the boiling sea and Ronon steadily growing smaller, disappearing behind the chop.

Rodney didn't need to see the wave this time to know it was the largest yet. The ferry's engines had been struggling to turn the ship into the wind, into the waves, but ferry was still angled and the wave hit it hard. Instead of the slow slide, the ferry tilted abruptly, and Rodney, John, and Teyla slammed into the deck and railing. He held onto them this time, crawling over them as Ronon had crawled over him. He could feel Teyla shuddering with grief and terror, and John felt frozen. Rodney refused to let himself think of Torren or Ronon in the sea; he focused on clinging to Teyla and John. He wouldn't lose them. He couldn't lose them.

The ferry rolled forward and the engines stuttered and gasped, flailing in mid-air. What did that mean? Were they sinking? Then the bow rose sharply and the engines caught water, the ferry swayed and lurched, and they began to climb the wave. He put his head down on John's chest, felt Teyla's tears on his face, and hung on tightly, shaking from fear and the beginnings of hypothermia. He felt John's hand settle on his head.

For long minutes, the ferry rose and fell, rolled and trembled as the waves battered it, but he could tell they now faced directly into the waves and were moving away from the storm.

Away from Ronon and Torren.

He pressed his face into John's sodden shirt, unbelieving. The three of them slid on the deck, smashing into others clinging to the ferry, children slipping like seals -- Rodney caught a little girl by the hair; she screamed horribly, but he hung on determined to save one person. She clawed at him and worked her way up his body until he could pull her under his arm. He wondered where her mother was. The wind died first, and slowly the waves released their terrible hold. The skies hung low over them but no rain fell at the moment. People around them began to climb to their feet, weeping, cursing, calling for lost friends and family, but the three of them remained flattened on the deck. Rodney wondered if Ronon had reached Torren, if they had died together; he wanted to believe that.

Someone tugged at the child he held; he released her and looked up. "Thank you," a man whispered, his voice lost in the chaos. The little girl flew to him, nearly choking him with her arms around his neck. Rodney nodded and slowly worked his way to his hands and knees. Water drained from every surface. He saw that the railings were bent, the catwalk nearly folded in half, portholes smashed. Broken furniture floated out the draining deckhouse.

He helped Teyla and John up, but they looked absent. His head hurt too much to think so he just kept his arms around them. Everything ached: his temples, his eyes, his nose, his throat, his chest, every muscle, every joint. His heart. Worst of all, his heart ached. He could barely look at Teyla, whose face was bruised from slamming into the deck and railing, nor at John, who stared out at sea, leaning back toward the two he'd left behind.

Rodney wiped his eyes and nose, pushed his wet hair back, and sighed. Out here, the waves, though still steep, were calmer, and the clouds in the sky looked more like those of a storm than whatever had happened over Pastorsinus. Rodney staggered with each roll of the ferry, but he hung on to John and Teyla, swaying into the people massed around them. He felt sick to his stomach and wondered if he'd vomit right there in the crowd. He really hoped not. He swallowed, and took a deep breath.

Rodney wasn't sure how long they stood there, pressed closely together. Hours, certainly; he later learned that the high-speed ferries plying between Pastorsinus and the Cape of Good Hopes averaged seven hours one way, but this was not an average trip. Though people slowly stopped shouting and wailing, around him many wept. He tried to fit together what had happened, but his memories were disjointed and confused. He'd probably bashed his head and didn't remember, he told himself. He pressed closer to Teyla, who nearly hung from his and John's arms; if they hadn't held her up, she would have collapsed to the deck. He couldn't look at her or at John yet, not really; only out of the corner of his eye. But he clung to them, wrapping his fingers deep in John's sodden tee shirt. If only this were over.

"Look," he croaked, pointing forward; ahead he could see the Port of Good Hopes. His feet were frozen, his knees locked, every muscle ached. The pier seemed undamaged, though crowded with boats of all shapes and kinds as well as the other ferry from Pastorsinus. He nudged John and Teyla to get them moving; John dragged his feet, unwilling to look away from the direction where they'd last seen Ronon, and Teyla walked as in a dream.

The queue to exit was long and slow; officials from the port were questioning each passenger; Rodney could hear their questions from multiple sources. Are you injured? Where is your family? Do you need a place to stay? He tightened his hold on Teyla and John, herding them together and identifying them as a group. As a family. As a broken family. The official who greeted them was a young woman, her dark eyes wide. Rodney wondered if she'd suffer from post-traumatic shock distress after hearing so many terrible stories.

"We're fine," Rodney told her. He thought he'd snapped at her, but his voice was sluggish, as if played back at a low speed. "We lost two people." Teyla cried out and nearly fell; John caught her and glared at Rodney.

The woman handed Rodney three blue ribbons, and for a moment he wondered what he'd won, and then two red ones. Red for lost, he realized, staring at them in his hand. "Go to Gate Oneryx," she told him, pointing. He nodded, and they merged with the crowd working their way down the steep gangway.

Gate Oneryx, Rodney realized, was where people went who'd lost someone. He nearly bolted, but then he thought of Ronon and Torren in the midst of the roiling ocean, and gently pushed John and Teyla on. He handed another official, an elderly man with kind eyes, the two red ribbons. "I am sorry," the man said accepting the ribbons. "We are collecting all data in order to help the search effort. But first, do you have relatives here? Somewhere to stay?"

John shook his head. "We're not from this planet."

The old man's face creased. "I am so sorry. But the water will recede; the stargate will be available soon. So, you will go to one of the hostels for families, ah," he glanced at the screen embedded in the podium before him. "Yes, to Iris and Ivy Hostel. You can see their emblem there," he pointed. "Go and get settled. Return tomorrow with these ribbons to describe what happen. The Port of Good Hopes will do all we can to assist."

"Thank you," Rodney murmured, accepting the ribbons, stuffing them into a pocket. He guided Teyla toward the rippling banner of the Iris and the Ivy, then turned back. "Is there a way to communicate with the Foremost at Pastersinus?"

The old man shook his head. "No," he said, and dropped his head. "I can't reach my granddaughter. Everything is down."

Rodney hesitated, not knowing what to say. He finally nodded jerkily, and hurried after John and Teyla.

They carried nothing with them. The tsunami had roared upon them impossibly fast. John had set their puddlejumper high on a hill, but they'd had no time to get to it, nor to help people through the gate. At one point in their mad rush, Rodney had banged his head into the trunk of a tree; blood still creased his left temple. He couldn't remember how they'd stayed together but assumed that Ronon's strength and John's tenacity had much to do with their success. He did remember running across the soggy beach to the pier that surged beneath his feet, herding as many people as he could to the last ferry. Too many people had come aboard, he knew, but who would turn any away?

He tried to pay attention to the bustling port, but his head was ringing and his chest burned with each breath. Probably the beginning of pneumonia, he thought, scowling until he saw Teyla's face: empty. He took a deep painful breath, coughed a bit.

Almost two dozen people, most obviously refugees like themselves, stood beneath the Iris and Ivy banner. Two young people wearing pins of iris crossed with ivy greeted them quietly; Rodney had to bend his head to hear them. "We are sorry for your losses," the girl said, and Rodney thought she really was sorry; she looked utterly miserable. More trauma, he thought, and nearly laughed. "We will leave for the hostel as soon as the jitney returns."

Rain had started up when they emerged from the port to catch the jitney. The sky was the colour of the water surrounding the port, a muddy purple, streaks of brown brightening into gold. Teyla sat quietly, staring away from the jitney's occupants and out at the Bay of Good Hopes. John and Rodney stood over her, silently watching her. Rodney wanted to rail against the world, the weather; he wanted to weep for Ronon and Torren. But he stood silently, feeling John bump against him as the jitney trundled its way through the crowded streets. He couldn't wait to reach the hostel and rest. Maybe the Iris and the Ivy would feed them; maybe he could take a bath. Tomorrow he'd return to the port and list Ronon and Torren as missing so the search for them could begin.

They let themselves be guided by the hostel employees for the next few hours. Rodney -- and John, he noticed -- kept a close eye on Teyla. Her quiet frightened Rodney; he thought she might be in shock. When they were settled in their bunks in the large dormitory, he caught one of the workers. "Is there a doctor?" he asked, gesturing toward Teyla.

"Yes, of course. She will be making rounds later tonight. You must eat now, and be sure to drink lots of fluids."

Rodney tried not to roll his eyes; he knew the hostel employees were doing the best they could. He wondered if he was in shock, too; shouldn't he be bellowing about now?

John pulled him back and he lay down on the lower bunk next to Teyla. John lay down in the bunk next to theirs. He listened to Teyla's breath and realized she was controlling it; some meditation, no doubt, and he tried to match his breaths to hers. He fell asleep.

When Rodney woke, he saw that Teyla had been crying. The doctor was making her rounds, going from bunk to bunk. She was an older woman with graying hair and sad brown eyes in her dark brown face; she looked as tired as Rodney felt. He watched as she knelt next to a bunk, listen quietly, sometimes taking the person's hand, other times embracing them. A trio of what Rodney recognized as students followed her, grave and a bit frightened looking, taking notes. When she reached them, she smiled and pushed a lock of hair from her face. "I am Doctor Channapha," she said. She shook each of their hands, Teyla's first, then Rodney's, and finally John's. "You are far from your home, I believe."

"Yes, another planet. We were trying to help and got caught," Rodney started, but then he remembered. He looked at Teyla.

Dr. Channapha said to Teyla, "You need not tell me your story. But you do need to rest, and drink fluids, and begin your recovery. Can you sleep?"

"I am fine," Teyla said in a small voice, very unlike her usual assured tones. Rodney glanced at John, who was staring at Teyla, brow creased in worry.

"Of course," Dr. Channapha said. She studied Teyla's face where she'd been bashed into the deck. One of her students handed her a small rectangular pack that she snapped. "Hold this against the bruise," she told Teyla. Then she pulled a small white envelope from one of the pockets in her oversized jacket. "If you need to sleep, take two. If you need to calm yourself, take one." She hesitated and then handed the packet to Rodney. "I know you do not feel like eating, but I must insist you take some soup. The good brothers will be around shortly." She looked at Rodney. "You will make sure she eats?"

He nodded, and gestured at John, trying to hide the movement behind Teyla. The doctor rose and knelt by John's bunk. She took his hand and, to Rodney's surprise, John permitted it. Rodney leaned back, trying to see what she was doing. A hand massage? At last, Dr. Channapha said, "You are far too exhausted. You will take one pill now, yes, and another after you have eaten." She handed him a tiny pink pill and one of her students poured him a cup of water. The doctor, and Rodney, watched John until he had swallowed the pill and all the water. "You will be able to care for your family better after you have rested," the doctor said, and patted John's hand.

She stood again and turned back to Teyla. "We will do all we can for you," she promised. Teyla sighed and nodded, her essential courtesy still with her despite everything. The doctor studied her and then moved to the bunk next to John's. Teyla lay back down next to Rodney and closed her eyes. After exchanging a long look with John, Rodney did as well.

He woke when the brothers of the hostel called them to a meal, a boring stew but it was hot and the accompanying bread was good, though there wasn't much of it. Teyla ate a little, then pushed the small wooden bowl away and turned her head. Rodney froze, and saw John do the same, his eyes wide. Shit, he thought. What would Jeannie do? He put his own meal aside and walked to Teyla. She sat cross-legged on the bed, twisted away from him. For a few seconds he hesitated and then he wrapped his arms around her. She made the most horrible sound he had ever heard, an anguished gasp or cry that wrenched his heart and brought tears to his eyes. He hugged her tighter and she clutched at him, shaking. He held on.

He held on for a long time, crying with her, embarrassed and angry, and knew this was grief. He didn't know what to say; for once, his stock of words had run dry and he could only rub her back, kiss her neck, rock her gently as her weeping calmed. He wiped his own eyes on the hem of his tee shirt, and sat next to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

Rodney looked up to see John still frozen in his -- what? his own shock and grief? Rodney didn't recognize the expression on John's face, but he knew the tense line of his body, muscles taut, starkly outlined and he held himself in check. John was staring at the floor between their beds, or maybe seeing something else, something terrible. Teyla raised her head and sighed. "John," she whispered, and held out her hand. John didn't move.

He reached out to John and paused. Slowly, John raised his head. Rodney swallowed at the pain in his face, and reached further, then made grabby motions with his hand. A corner of John's mouth lifted and he pushed away from his bed.

John leaned against Teyla's bed, then bent forward slowly. Teyla met him, forehead to forehead, and they stayed like that, just breathing, while Rodney watched. His eyes slowly filled with tears, but he remained silent until they parted.

"Okay," he said, his voice husky. He rubbed his eyes, and his nose, and sniffed hard. "Plans?"

"Head back to Pastorsinus," John said instantly. "Tomorrow we'll find a way."

"Teyla?" Rodney asked her, shyly taking her hand.

She nodded. "Pastorsinus," she whispered. "I have to go." She looked up at him. "I have to _know_," she said.

"Pastorsinus," he said, and wondered how the hell to get there, and how long until the stargate would be accessible, and what they would find when they arrived.

They found their way to the communal bathrooms and washed up a bit more, then returned to their beds. One of the brothers was there with an electronic clipboard, or so Rodney determined it was. "Ah," he said. "Gentle people. Would it be possible for you to double up? Another group of refugees has been sent to us and we are short of beds."

"Sure," John said. "Rodney and I will bunk together. Teyla --"

"I will share with another," Teyla said.

"Ah, no need, little sister, no need," the brother said, patting her arm. "But we will move your two beds together, and this one apart. A father and son will be sharing it."

John and Rodney and the brother pushed the beds into a new configuration; it was a big room, a ward, Rodney thought of it, but rather than in neat rows, the beds were clustered into little groups of varying sizes. He was glad. He wanted to keep Teyla near, and to be near John.

Lights were dimmed and people quieted, though not many went to bed. The three of them sat on their bed, Teyla curled between them. Rodney couldn't keep from touching her: his hand on her back, his shoulder against hers, and he noticed John doing the same. They didn't speak; they just sat together, John drawing a blanket over them as the night deepened and a damp chill rose. When all was quiet, Rodney could hear the rain still coming down, tapping on the windows. Occasionally a big gust of wind shouldered against the building, but nothing like what he'd felt on the ferry or back in Pastorsinus before everything had gone to hell.

Three of them managed to fit into the two beds pushed together, and shortly after taking two pills, Teyla fell asleep. They gently lay her down and wrapped her warmly; Rodney couldn't help but remember the wrapped bodies they'd seen, the ones who'd drowned and washed ashore, and for a moment he couldn't move, just bent over Teyla and tried not to wake her. John put his hand on Rodney's back and, when Rodney still couldn't move, around his waist, finally resting his head on Rodney's shoulder. At last Rodney took a deep breath and made himself let go of Teyla.

Without looking at each other, he and John went to bed. It rained harder. The night was cold, and Rodney was glad to have John so close, so warm. But he slept very little.

They rose early; the wind had died down but the clouds were still heavy and low over the Port of Good Hopes. The brothers -- apparently always awake -- gave them heavy cloaks, rough material but thick enough to cut the damp chill. Rodney wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and then opened it and with his right arm gently pulled Teyla to him. He felt his face redden with embarrassment, and he felt more awkward than he had since Earth, but she came willingly and they left together, following John as he led the way out of the Iris and the Ivy and into the gelid air.

One of the brothers pointed to where a jitney would take them back to the docks, so they waited impatiently. Rodney shifted from foot to foot and wiggled his toes; his boots were still a little damp. John looked both exhausted and angry; Teyla just looked tired. He was glad when the jitney arrived, headlights mirrored on the wet cobblestone street. They swung up and found seats. When the jitney jerked and rattled on, Rodney said quietly to John, "What next?"

"Find them," John said instantly, his voice hoarse. Rodney noticed that his nose was red and wondered if he was coming down with a cold. Great. They would all probably get pneumonia before they got home again. If the water ever receded enough to use the stargate again.

He sighed and looked out the window at the empty and silent streets. Lights had just started to come on in the windows of the buildings they passed. Maybe by the time they reached the docks somebody who knew something would be around. He could hope.

The docks were already busy when they arrived; it didn't look as though they had shut down. Another ferry was moored next to the one they'd arrived on, but the new one was badly damaged, its bow bashed in, the gunwales broken under the weight of collapsed equipment. Rodney wondered if anyone had survived it.

Off the shuttle, and they watched a dozen or so bedraggled people climb up its steps -- no doubt they had looked as miserable yesterday when they had first climbed aboard. Rodney tried not to meet any of their eyes; he was struggling with his own misery and fear, trying to hide it from John and Teyla. John's face was tense, lined in a way Rodney had never noticed before, and Teyla. Well.

John led them through the milling crowd, to a lopsided building, tall and narrow, the door half off its hinges. Rodney realized it must have been damaged in the winds. A sign creaked overhead, but he couldn't read the language.

"We need to get back to Pastorsinus," John told an elderly man inside the building. The three of them stood at the door peering in. Pools of water stood on the floor, an upturned table in one corner, and a broken window were more evidence of storm damage.

"Pastorsinus," the man said. "Haven't heard from 'em yet."

"Yeah, I'm sure," John said impatiently. "That's why we need to get there. Does anyone here have a boat we can rent?"

The old guy shrugged. Then he stuck his head out the broken window and shouted, "Asra! Asraaaa!"

"Fuck, I'm right here," Asra said. "What?"

"We need to get to Pastorsinus," John said again. "We need a boat, or a guide, or something, but we have to get there."

"Huh," Asra said. He took off his cap and scratched his mahogany-coloured hair. "Kinda rough right now. So much damage, y'know?"

"We know," John said.

"Lemme ask around. Take it you need to go soon?"

"As soon as possible," Teyla said, speaking for the first time that day.

Asra studied her, and pursed his mouth. Rodney took Teyla's hand. "Okay," Asra said. "Where you stayin'?"

"At The Iris and the Ivy," Rodney said.

"With the good brothers, yeah, I know 'em," Asra said. "I'll come by tonight after work, let you know what I find."

"But what shall we do now?" Teyla asked, her voice trembling. John tensed and Rodney wondered what he would do. He pulled Teyla to him and, seeing John's rigid back and clenched fist, slid his hand gently up John's arm, cupped his shoulder, and then across to his other shoulder. To his surprise, John turned into him, and Rodney held on tighter to the two most important people in his universe.

"What'll we do?" Rodney asked. Teyla looked exhausted. "Go back to the shelter?"

"Find a boat," John said. He pushed away from Rodney and through the crowd, down the dock, past the damaged ferry. A battered ship that looked vaguely military to Rodney was moored next to it, but then the berths were full of smaller boats, none of them in good shape. Some were long and narrow, with tents strung over them, and a few looked like flat-bottomed houseboats. There was a coracle, and a broken canoe, and a motorboat that looked in pretty good shape.

"Can you take us to Pastorsinus?" John asked the woman working on the engine at the stern of the motorboat.

"Why?" she asked not looking up at them.

"We need to get back. We have family there."

"Think so?" She leaned back, stretching, and rubbed her eye, smudging grease on her cheekbone. "I've heard it's pretty bad out there."

"We know. We were there," Rodney said shortly. "That's why we need to get back."

She looked at the engine, open in front of her. "Well, if I can get this piece of shit working, sure. I just don't know when that'll be. I just pulled it up. I need to take it apart, dry it out, oil it, and put it back together. A few days?"

"Oh, for -- here, let me," Rodney snapped, and stepped cautiously into the boat. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm good with engines," he explained, "so stop looking at me like that. Also, move over so I can see."

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, but she did scoot over a bit. "And you're supposed to ask permission to come aboard."

"Doctor Rodney McKay, and I'm already aboard so asking permission would be superfluous. Also, I'm an engineer, among other things."

"He really is," John said. "Best I've ever known."

"Huh," she said. "Well, I'm Dithra, and you're on the _Lilac Wine_. Until a few days ago, I ran supplies up the coast to the new settlement, Alfina. But if you can fix this engine, I reckon they can wait a bit for the next supply run."

"I can fix it," Rodney said. He squatted next to the engine and peered at it.

"Vapour lock?" Dithra asked.

"Lack of compression," Rodney said. "Look, how old is this?"

"Older'n me," Dithra said. "We got a little wet recently, you know."

Rodney looked at her more closely. She looked all right to him, but he realized she could have lost her entire family. He just didn't know, nor did he know how to ask. "Yeah," he finally said, and turned back to the engine. "We need to check the cylinders first."

"I pulled the plugs," she said.

"Good start," he said, and then fell to it as if they'd worked side by side for years. He was vaguely aware of John pacing the deck and Teyla sitting peacefully in meditation. He focused all his attention on the engine beneath his hands. He couldn't think of Ronon and Torren or he'd never move again.

Finally, Dithra said to him _sotto voce_, "Your friend needs to burn off some of that energy. Think he'd get us lunch?"

"John," Rodney called to him. "Hypoglycaemia, remember?"

"No citrus," John said, and stalked off.

"He know where he's going?" Dithra asked.

"He'll find something," Rodney said. His stomach growled. "I hope he finds it soon."

He did. He brought back a silk-thin bag full of lumpy shapes that, like a magician, he extracted one at a time. Even Teyla looked interested at the thermos of steaming tea, and Rodney was relieved to see her take one of the thin biscuits and a slice of yellow cheese. He ate heartily, as did Dithra. Sour olives, sweet grapes, juicy plums, the bread and cheese, and tea: the best meal he'd had in two days.

Even John settled down after they ate. "I need to return the bag and stuff," he said, but he sat next to Teyla and watched Rodney and Dithra work. "Figure it out?"

"He is good," Dithra said.

John groaned. "Don't tell him! It goes straight to his head."

"Will you take us to Pastorsinus?" Teyla asked Dithra. Rodney looked up, surprised, and met John's eyes. It was the first time Teyla had spoken in hours.

"Yah," Dithra said, continuing to dry the interior of a cylinder. "From there, myself."

"Do you live there?" Rodney asked her.

"Yah, maybe. Need to see if my place is still there. Heard everything washed to sea in the storm." Teyla made a soft noise, but sipped her tea.

"Tsunami," Rodney corrected Dithra. She looked at him. "Not just a storm; a tsunami. It's a really big wave that rolls far ashore."

Dithra shrugged. "Whatever. I talked to my cousin Etel, who heard that everything is gone. My place was a little platform, not a house or apartment, but I built it myself and lived there since I was old enough to live alone. I need to see if it's still there, or how damaged." She sighed. "I'd like to go home, but Etel says not much is left."

Teyla rose, her mug clattering away. John caught it before it rolled off the dock into the water, and then looked at Rodney. His face was twisted in pain. "Go," Rodney said, his voice thick. "Take care of her."

"She your wife?" Dithra asked when John had swung away after Teyla.

"No. One of my closest friends."

"What happened to her face? Someone hit her?"

Rodney felt Dithra tense beside him. He shook his head.

"Pastorsinus," she said, almost a question.

Rodney nearly laughed. "You could say that." He covered his face with his hands, knowing he was going to be smudged with grease. He tried to breathe slowly, the way Teyla had taught him to, but it felt as though heavy rocks were on his chest and he couldn't catch his breath.

"Here," Dithra said, and took one of his hands, pressing a ceramic bottle in it. "Drink."

He drank. The taste was medicinal and strong, and he shuddered after the first sip. He smacked his lips and drank a bit more before handing the bottle back to her. "Thank you," he said, almost wheezing.

She took a slug and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "My cousin makes it."

"Etel?"

She smiled at him, revealing one crooked eyetooth and dimples. "Naw. I got a lot of cousins." Her smile faded. "Or I did. Another reason to go back."

"Okay," he said. "Let's put her back together and see what happens." They worked well together, he thought. Both knew what they were doing, and though Dithra was more familiar with the workings of this particular engine, Rodney had seen instantly how it worked. "I could ramp this up a bit," he told her, wiping his hands. "Give you more speed and more reliability."

"Big talk."

Rodney opened his mouth to argue, but then John and Teyla returned. They both looked exhausted, and Rodney remembered why they were here, where they were going. He was grateful to Dithra for the diversion, but he also felt ashamed that he could have forgotten, however briefly, his goal. He stood up to greet them.

"We need to go," John said.

"Dithra's ready," Rodney said. "I'd rather go with her. She has family in Pastorsinus, and I've seen how her boat works."

"You can leave now?" Teyla asked her.

Dithra reached out her arms to Teyla, who slowly took Dithra's hands and let her help her into the skiff. "My lady, we will go immediately if you wish."

"We wish," John said. "Rodney?"

"Uh, yeah, we wish." Dithra nodded her head toward the cabin. He ducked his head as he stepped down. It was pretty basic: a tiny galley, a tinier head, and one large-ish bunk right in the bow. On the right, webbing holding supplies -- including flotation devices, he hoped. Nothing else. He poked around the galley. Loose tea, the sweetening sticks they used in Pastorsinus, a bowl of eggs, a little planter with greens, and two round loaves of bread. "I'm hungry," he shouted topside.

"I need to put into Sreu's Cove to get fuel and food to go to Pastorsinus," Dithra said as he climbed out. "We can have a hot lunch there, pick up a few supplies."

"But we will leave?" Teyla said again.

"My lady, we will be there in Pastorsinus in no more than three sols, and probably less." Rodney's stomach growled, and then John's. Dithra clapped her hands. "John, you look spry. Cast off the bow, yah? Like that. Toss me the line. Now to the stern. I'll give you a shout."

Rodney started the engine. It was nearly silent, though the exhaust stank and its first gusts of exhaust were an ugly blue. Then it coughed and ran more smoothly.

"Help your friend," Dithra told Rodney, who went to the stern and gave John a hand with the line. John jumped nimbly over the railing. "We're off," Dithra shouted.

The sky was still heavy with grey clouds, the pale light slanting across the sky, glittering on the surface of the ocean. Dithra took them out of the harbour slowly, letting Rodney see what an enormous port Good Hopes was. The storm damage here was minimal, though even Rodney's inexpert eyes could tell that some of the boats had been damaged, and rainwater sparkled in the streets in the westerly light. They puttered just outside the breakwater and started down the coast. Good Hopes was a much larger city than Rodney had realized; they'd always gone to Pastorsinus when they'd visited this world. It was easy to forget that one stargate per world meant exactly that -- there existed an entire world beyond it, most of which Rodney would never see. The Port of Good Hopes was built of stone, the same cool white of the hills behind it. The buildings he could see on the waterfront were large -- probably warehouses, he thought, and on the hills above them loomed what looked to Rodney like a church. Massive, pale grey, with heavy round arches and two towers at either end bracketing an enormous grey dome. Crowding around it were many smaller buildings, all in the same grey stone, many with the rounded arches. The effect was somber and, in the heavy clouds, disheartening. He wished they were already back at Pastorsinus.

The engine Rodney and Dithra had worked on sounded a bit rough to Rodney's ear, but they made good time to their next stop, a small natural harbour they entered through a narrow canyon. The water calmed and Dithra slowed, heading toward a pier where a number of smaller boats congregated. "Sreu's Cove," Dithra said, pointing. Rodney made his way to the bow of the boat, John following him.

"How's Teyla?" Rodney asked _sotto voce_. John shook his head. He looked exhausted, Rodney thought. He sighed and rubbed his face, then grabbed the line. A young woman waited at the pier so he handed it to her and she walked them into place.

"Shay!" Dithra cried, raising one hand.

"You're lookin' a bit ratty," Shay called back, gesturing at some of the damage the _Lilac Wine_ had suffered in the storm.

"Better'n some," Dith replied. She shut off the engine and rose. "Lady," she said to Teyla. "We can get food and supplies here. Let's have a hot meal and then you can rest."

Teyla didn't respond. Rodney glanced at John, who was staring at Teyla, his face unreadable in the dusk.

"Well, I'm hungry," Rodney said, and gently pushed John, who climbed out of the boat onto the pier, and then helped Teyla up. Rodney scrambled up as best he could, flushing at Shay's quick grin. She and Dith hugged. "Glad you're all right," he heard Shay whisper to Dith.

"Something smells good," he said, sniffing the air. Shay and Dith led them to a small, crowded tavern. His mouth watered at the smell of frying fish. "Order for us," he told Dith, who nodded. "Something to drink, too."

"He's bossy," Shay said, grinning at him. She and Dithra turned their attention to Teyla, one woman on each side of her, as they pushed their way inside.

Rodney never did learn whether Sreu's Cove was the name of the harbour, the pier, or the tavern, but the food was as good as it smelled. The building was full to overflowing, tables crammed too close together so Rodney had to turn sideways and walk on his tiptoes to squeeze through. The smoke-filled air trembled with raucous laughter and furious conversation -- what he could overhear was about the flooding in Pastorsinus and damage done by the storm. Shay and Dithra settled them at a too-small table near the kitchen, but they were known here, and soon platters of fried fish and potatoes and an enormous bowl of salad with chunks of cheese were slammed onto their table. "Gods bless us," Shay said, "and all those in peril on the sea."

"Bless us all," Dithra chimed in, and they began to eat.

Even Teyla ate, Rodney observed, even John; the food was that good. The fish was piping hot, crusted with something like cornmeal and seasonings, and contrasted deliciously with the cool salad and cheese, and jars of yeasty beer. Rodney urged Teyla to drink, too, hoping she would be able to sleep tonight. She'd lost weight, and her beautiful skin was an ashy colour. John's cheekbones were too sharp, Rodney thought, studying them covertly.

"How long," he shouted to Dithra over the raucous noise of the other customers, "until we reach Pastorsinus?"

"We'll leave first light," she shouted back. "But I need to hug the shore, so it'll depend on what we find. Normally, three sols, as I told your lady."

"You fully stocked?" John asked her.

She nodded. "Don't suppose you can come," she said to Shay, who shook her head.

"Too much work to do."

They didn't linger over their meal. Dithra and Shay guided them back to the _Lilac Wine_, Teyla somnolent in Rodney and John's arms as they followed the other two down the dark and cold pier to where their boat was moored. "The forward cabin is the most comfortable," Dith told them. "I'll sleep in the stern. There's a little head, and help yourself to whatever's in the galley." She looked at Shay. "I'll be back in a few hours." With that, she left them. The wind had picked up and the boat rocked and swayed, lines creaking against the weathered wood of the pier and the deck railing. John found a lantern and managed to light it; he held it up and they surveyed the cabin. In the flickering light, it seemed larger than Rodney remembered. The hull, or whatever the walls on a boat were called, were completely lined with shelves and a kind of bungie cord that held in books and maps and pots and packets of foodstuff. Rodney opened a box and sniffed. "Hey," he said. "Gingersnap cookies! I think."

"Rodney," John said wearily, and Rodney helped them into the bed. It was warm, which surprised him. Teyla was awake enough to undress herself, but she lay back with her boots still on and her trousers opened. "Um," Rodney said, and looked at John. "Teyla?"

"Torren," she whispered, and turned her face away from them and the light.

Rodney felt tears start to his eyes. He'd been working hard to forget why they were here, where they were going, but he saw how selfish that was. Teyla and John were aching with the loss of Ronon and the boy, and Rodney was focusing on gingersnaps. He rubbed his face. Then he straightened. "It'll be okay," he said with a confidence he knew no one believed. "Let's get to bed." He gently removed Teyla's boots and found them damp, as were her socks. "Why didn't you say anything?" he scolded. "You'll catch a cold and then what?" He rubbed her feet, massaging them, reassured when she wiggled her toes. "Find another pair of socks," he told John, who looked ready to collapse. Together, they got Teyla's trousers peeled off her (really, leather trousers in a storm, Rodney thought), and Dithra's warm socks on her still chilly feet, then rolled her into the middle of the bed.

John sat down heavily and sighed, so Rodney knelt in front of him and began untying his boots. "It's a wonder you don't trip and fall on these laces," he scolded, but John didn't rise to the bait. Eventually, John too was undressed and in bed. Rodney blew out the lantern and followed. He'd slept with his teammates before, many times, but always with Ronon there to anchor them: big and warm and comforting. Now Rodney had to be the anchor, he thought. He made sure both were well tucked in, and then at last lay back. His shoulders ached, his lower back, too, and the arches of his feet hurt, and for a moment he couldn't breathe through his grief. He wished there was something to take his mind off everything: everyone they'd lost, the sound of the boat butting against the bumpers, the sound of the wind in the lines, but then Teyla sighed, and John snored, and Rodney fell into sleep.

Dithra woke him when she returned just before dawn. John was awake, and Rodney suspected Teyla was, too, but she had curled in on herself and didn't stir. John's eyes glimmered in the low light as Rodney slipped from their bed. Dithra was in the galley heating water; steam had begun to curl above the rattling kettle. She nodded at him. He scooted past her and onto deck. The sky was still dark, but the edges of the world had begun to lighten enough to dim the stars. No one else seemed to be about near them, though where they'd eaten last night was still brightly lit. He stood at the stern and pissed overboard, sighing with relief.

He suddenly realized that the sky was clear and the wind had died; slack water, he thought Ronon would call this unnatural stillness of the ocean on which they floated. He ached for Ronon's voice, his sly grin, his teasing. Shaking off and tucking himself away, he knelt and washed his hands in the water, then brought a double handful near his face. "Be safe," he whispered, but he didn't know to whom.

When he rose, John was standing behind him, unbuttoning. "Dithra's fixing _kaisti_," he told Rodney, "which I think is hot tea or coffee. At any rate, she boiled up water and put it in a jug with something that smells good."

Rodney nodded. He waited while John pissed, not talking, just trying to wake up. When John had finished, he touched John's arm and together they went down to the galley, crowding close in the companionway to make room for Dithra. Teyla was not visible.

Dithra handed each of them heavy ceramic jars, almost too hot to hold, but the _kaisti_ was good: hot and thick and comforting, tasting a bit like green tea though Rodney didn't think it smelled good; more like wet cardboard. He drank gratefully, and curled his fingers around the jar, holding it near his chest. Its warmth was reassuring.

"All right," Dithra said when she'd drunk her jug down. "Time to head out. Sun's almost up and I want to get out of the harbour before the tide turns. Cast off," she told Rodney, who hurried to obey. Behind him, he heard Dithra say to John, "Your lady needs looking after." Rodney thought they all needed looking after.

When they left the harbour, as before, Dithra kept the _Lilac Wine_ near shore, just outside the breakers. Clouds were building up again on the horizon, dark coils low over the dark water. Fast squalls hurried ahead of it; Dithra kept a steady eye on the storm. "Is the weather always like this?" John asked her.

"Been changing," she said. "My mum used to sail these waters and taught me to, but we never saw storms like this. Shay says it's on purpose, that someone's doing it."

"Who?" Rodney asked sharply. Stupid idea.

Dithra shrugged.

"What do you think?" John asked her.

She looked at him, her gaze even. "I think it's best not to sail too close to the wind, to keep your eyes open, and to know where the nearest port is."

He laughed, and Rodney felt he could breathe again. "You're a very cautious woman, Dithra."

"Shay says I wear both a belt and suspenders. Don't like to take risks, specially on the water."

"You should listen to her, Sheppard," Rodney said, surprising himself. "Dithra makes a lot of sense."

"Sheppard," John said softly. "You only call me that when you're irritated with me."

"Well." They stared at each other, and then Dithra made a little noise, maybe a chuckle, Rodney wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt close to John again. Rodney's stomach growled.

"If you want to eat, you'll need to fix it yourself," Dithra said. "_Kaisti_'ll do me till the sun's higher."

Rodney stepped down into the little galley, John behind him. Down the narrow corridor, he saw Teyla sitting up in bed, head in her hands. The two men looked at each other, then John poured another jar of _kaisti_ and nudged Rodney toward the bed. John knelt next to the bed, waited until Teyla looked at him, and they handed her the jar. "Careful," he said. "It's hot."

She sipped tentatively at it, and sighed. "It's good."

"It is," Rodney said. "I want more. John?"

"Yeah, I would, thanks. Maybe breakfast?"

Rodney hesitated, standing over Teyla and John. Gathering his courage, he leaned over and kissed Teyla's forehead, and rested a hand on John's shoulder. Bony, he thought, and went back into the galley. In a tiny cooler he found the cheeses he remembered from last night, and a bowl of some kind of berries. He sniffed them and carefully touched his tongue to one of them, but they were pretty clearly not citrus. He found the bread a bit dry, so he sliced it and toasted it over the little gas burner, melting some of the cheese on the pieces. He washed a tin tray, lined it with a cloth, and put everything on it. He poured himself and John more _kaisti_ and carried it all back to the cabin.

Teyla was still in bed, and now John was sitting on it next to her, their dark heads together. Rodney watched them for a moment, his heart full of love and pain for them, for himself, for the entire world. He trembled, and knocked one of the jars of _kaisti_ against the other; John and Teyla looked up and, to Rodney's amazement, Teyla smiled welcomingly. "Dear Rodney," she said, and he hurried to her, settling the tray on the bed, kneeling by it, then taking her hand. He pressed his cheek against it, hoping she would understand what he could not say.

"Get warm," John said, so he kicked off his shoes and joined them under the covers, huddling against the chilly morning while they ate their toasted bread, sweet berries, and hot _kaisti_.

The boat sailed smoothly all morning. John seemed to already know how to sail, so after breakfast he spent most of his time with Dithra, assisting her. Rodney couldn't sit still; he orbited around Teyla, squirming his way along the side decks to the bow, peering into the foaming water beneath them, then back to the stern to study the little motor, still sounding a bit rough to his ears, then down the companionway into the galley and on into the forward cabin and back to Teyla. She had made the bunk and sat upon it, meditating. Then Rodney would feel compelled to work his way back up and to the bow and start his circuit again. Like a dog walking the border of its yard, he thought, or John walking the perimeter. Mostly burning energy because there wasn't anything he could do. He couldn't comfort Teyla or John, he couldn't speed up the boat, he couldn't make time go backwards so none of this had happened, he couldn't fucking do anything.

He gasped and covered his face, turning into the wind. He was on the port side deck, so he leaned into the cabin, almost lying over it, and tried to breathe. The air was cold and fresh, the wind beginning to push at the boat, the sky beginning to cloud over. He turned and looked up to study the clouds, trying to remember what he'd learned about meteorology since he'd come to the Pegasus galaxy, but he couldn't think of anything but Teyla's face when he'd finally reached her on the ferry. He wanted Ronon's presence so much it hurt: it hurt his chest, his heart, his head. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, even though his was breathing open mouthed, panting as if he'd run a long, long way. He gulped and wiped the spindrift from his face. Without warning, he felt someone behind him, gripping his upper arms, and then something against the back of his neck. John, he knew, in just as much pain. He pulled them both forward until they stood in the bow, leaning against the cabin behind them.

When he could speak, he loosened his hold on John enough to see his face. Closed off in that tight, angry way John had, but Rodney knew John wasn't angry at him. He sighed, and wiped his eyes, then brushed his thumb beneath John's eyes. They stared into each other's eyes and Rodney remembered so many of the other times they'd been caught like this, pinned beneath the other's gaze. John's grip on Rodney tightened and the lines around his eyes deepened; Rodney pulled John back to him. Over John's shoulder, he saw Teyla watching them. He held out one hand and she came to them, wobbling a bit as the boat rocked over the waves. He pulled her into their circle, their broken circle, and they stood together, breathing the salt air. The sun slid behind the cloud cover, and the temperature suddenly dropped.

When the three of them had made their way back to the cockpit, Dithra was studying the sky. "I'd hoped to travel all night," she told them. "I'm in a hurry to get home. But I'm putting into port not far from here. Just a little place, no tavern or inn, but good anchorage."

Remembering the terrifying afternoon on the ferry, its rails buried in the troughs of the towering waves, Rodney was pleased. "Can I do something?"

She shook her head, then leaned close to him. "Take care of your lady and your man," she said. "I'm sorry for your loss. Don't lose any more."

He nodded, and followed John and Teyla down the companionway, through the tiny galley, and into the V-berth. Teyla was handing John a bulky pullover that must belong to Dithra. At least Teyla had the sense to dress warmly; John never had and probably never would. Seeing they were as well as could be expected, he went back into the galley and started heating water. No tavern, Dithra had said, so they'd have to fix something, but _kaisti_ would do for now. As he prepared the hot drink, he wondered how he could ever repay Dithra for her generosity and kindness. A better engine, perhaps.

Dithra dropped anchor from the bow, keeping them facing into the waves, and then showed Rodney and Teyla the carefully stowed rows of aseptic packages. "Like MREs," Rodney said, studying the pictures on one. Dithra pulled a small tab, popped the entire package into what Rodney was pretty sure was an oven, and in three minutes, the cabin smelled of spices. With bread, cheese, and beer, the highly seasoned squashy-tasting meal was very filling. He kept an eye on his teammates and saw they dug in, too. Clean up was easier than on Atlantis; Dithra's boat had its own recycler that cleaned and flattened the package so it could be stored without taking up much room. "See," she showed him, "slide it in here and it's fuel for the stove." He was very impressed, pursing his lips and wondering if he could do something with this idea for fieldwork.

Teyla didn't sleep as well that night. No exercise, nothing to distract her, Rodney thought, the fourth time she apologized for disturbing his sleep. The bunk was too narrow for three, but he didn't want to be separated from them. "S'okay," he told her, but that time he took her into his arms so her head rested on his chest. He poked at John, who also rolled over and cuddled against her. "We're here, we're here," Rodney whispered, knowing that comfort was impossible. "Listen to the wind." Immediately he realized it wasn't the wind he was hearing, but some unknown sea creature calling out. He wondered if it too had lost loved ones in the storm.

The clouds had retreated by morning, and the _Lilac Wine_ made good time that day, Dithra told them, trying to beat the weather. Again in the afternoon the clouds roiled up and blotted out the sun, the wind rose, the whitecaps popped, and she took them in. The third night she dropped the sea anchor. "Rocks, rocks, and bigger rocks," she said, nodding at the shore. "And shoals near them." She shook her head. "I thought we'd make a lot better progress than this."

Rodney had hoped so, too. The days were long for all of them. At least John and Teyla were resting and eating, though neither of them slept as much as they should. They still hadn't spoken about what they'd experienced. Rodney wasn't sure he would ever be able to. When he lay down to sleep, the first thing he saw were the waves raging high above the ferry, the feeling of falling into others, of grabbing onto John, and worse of all, of watching Ronon leap into the chaotic sea. His eyes always popped open at that moment, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Why hadn't he and Radek invented a time machine yet? Just not come here, or come next week, or a week earlier. Why did they have to arrive the day of the storm and tsunami?

He knew he wouldn't sleep anymore that night. Trying not to jostle his bedmates, he half-slid out of bed. It was cold, so he grabbed his socks and a blanket, and silently went above.

The clouds were curdled and thick, oppressive. In the distance, lightning flashed silently, highlighting the clouds, outlining them in eerie pastels of green and orange. Anchored at sea was different from being tied up at a pier; no bumping and thumping, just the silent tug of the bowline keeping them facing into the wind. He realized he could hear the call of the sea creature: high pitched, focused, literally unearthly. He wondered what it was.

A noise on deck surprised him, and he turned to find Teyla coming up the companionway. She looked sleepy, worn, too thin. Without thinking, he held out his hand to her. She took his hand and permitted him to draw her to his side. They leaned against the gunwale and looked across the deck to the sea. Lightning again illuminated the clabbered clouds. "Do you think the storm will reach us?" she finally asked, her voice a silken thread in the night.

He shook his head. The wind, saturated with salt water and knife-sharp, shoved against the boat again, rolling them port. Rodney grabbed Teyla, wrapping an arm around her waist, and held on to the gunwale, bracing his legs against the swell. She leaned against him, also holding the gunwale. As the wind died, he heard again the high-pitched cry from under the sea. "What is that?" she asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think it's an animal, under the water." It cried again and was distantly answered. "We should ask Dithra."

"Dith's trying to sleep," Dithra said. They turned to see her come up from the aft cabin, rubbing her eyes. "Are they bothering you? They're _pulti_. Big things, hardly ever surface. They sing to each other."

"Sing?" Teyla asked.

Dithra shrugged, then yawned. "Sorry. Yeah, sing. My mum says they sing for love." She smiled at them. "But she was always a romantic." Dithra yawned again, and suddenly Rodney did, too, hugely. "Back to bed for us all," Dithra said. "Better sailing tomorrow."

"Better sailing," Rodney said, heartfelt. He gently guided Teyla back toward the cabin, but froze when the boat began to swing around. He looked at Dithra.

"Wind's changing," she said, unnecessarily, Rodney thought. The wind moved from onshore to offshore, and he could feel the difference -- the air warmed, the wind speed increased, the humidity dropped, and the boat pivoted on the bow anchor until it had turned nearly one hundred eight degrees. Teyla's hair flew around her face and she pulled it back into a ponytail, holding it with one hand.

"Is this common?" she asked Dithra, who shook her head.

"Not like this, not so quickly." The three of them stared into the wind, toward the land that Rodney could smell, a heavy green scent. Thunder rolled, deep enough that he felt it in the handrail he held, and rolled again. "Shit," Dithra said. "I don't like this."

Rodney checked his watch's barometer; he could see it falling. "What's going to happen?"

"Nothing, if we're lucky," Dithra said. "But if this keeps up, a big storm. Might last all night."

Teyla made a soft sound of distress, and Rodney put his hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. He glanced at Dithra, but she was still staring into the dark, head back a bit, sniffing deeply. She looked puzzled. John appeared, one hand on the hatch. "What's going on?" he asked. The wind picked up even more and the deck beneath Rodney's feet shuddered.

"Storm," Dithra said. "Make sure everything's tied down good. I'll check the bowline." She went forward, holding a lantern, a tiny spot of light in the enormity of this world. Rodney was suddenly very aware of what a small boat the _Lilac Wine_ was, and that, although they were not far from land, they were out farther than he could swim even in the mildest weather, which this was not. The wind, indeed, continued to pick up, and began tossing the waves, knocking their tops off and scattering the water over them. He hurried Teyla down into the cabin and they began strapping and tying things down.

"Perhaps," Teyla said, wrestling shut an overfilled locker, "perhaps we should make tea."

Rodney wasn't sure that made a lot of sense, but if Teyla wanted tea, he'd do anything in the universe to see that she got tea. "Yeah, tea," he said, looking around for any loose items. It was becoming difficult to walk; he had to keep his hands on a cabin wall. He collapsed onto the bed and pulled Teyla with him. John appeared, then Dithra, and they all squeezed together, bracing themselves as the boat rolled and rolled again. Rodney knew that John and Teyla were remembering the ferry, as he was. "Teyla wants tea," he said too loudly, and as he'd hoped that distracted everyone.

They let Dithra wrestle with heating the water. Rodney squeezed past her to peer out the companionway hatch. The sea was roiling around them, as if someone were shaking the boat. "I dropped another anchor," Dithra said as they watched the small burner, its tiny flame cheering in the cold chaos. "If the winds get stronger, we'll have to run with them." She looked at John, who nodded slowly. "Yes, you will help. And my lady," she said to Teyla, gently placing a hand on Teyla's forearm, "my lady, I promise to keep you and your men safe." Teyla trembled visibly, but nodded.

They drank the _kaisti_ in small jars with lids so it wouldn't spill out. Rodney thought it tasted wonderful, and noted the colour returning to John's face. Something like caffeine, then, a stimulant and just when they needed it, plus it was warm.

Dithra went topside suddenly, and on impulse, Rodney pulled John to him, so he, Teyla and John stood in a tight circle, balancing against each other with each swell. He put his arms around his friends and thought of Ronon and of little Torren. _Be safe_, he thought, sending his wishes out like deep space radar; he nearly laughed at the image, but their desperate situation was too much and he made a sound like a sob. Both John and Teyla held him tighter, and he hung on to them.

The boat jerked sideways and a sound like firecrackers popping startled them; they looked back and up the companionway. White water broached the cockpit and swirled down the steps. Dithra's head dropped down. "We're going to have to run with it," she shouted over the roar of the storm. "John, get them into the _flizzan_!" Rodney wondered what the hell a _flizzan_ was, but John reached across them and pulled open a cabinet. Life jackets, no, PFDs, Rodney realized, and he helped Teyla into hers. They were big and bulky and warm, some technology he wanted to examine, but he bundled John into his and helped him up to the deck. "We need to do this together!" Dithra shouted; Rodney could barely make out the words.

"Take care of Teyla," John shouted hoarsely, but before he could dash away, Rodney pulled him back and kissed him, missing his mouth, catching his chin. John laughed in surprise, but kissed him back more accurately, then grabbed the lifeline and pulled himself amidships. Rodney went back to Teyla.

"He will be fine," Teyla said firmly, and Rodney hugged her; they were so small and the world so large. The boat flung them port again, toppling them into the cabinet John had opened. Rodney pushed them deeper into the V-berth and they fell onto the bunk. The boat straightened out; Rodney wondered if they were running with the storm, whatever that meant, and whether John was safe. No more water sloshed down the companionway, and he and Teyla were no longer bouncing from side to side. He pulled her nearer; she was shivering. "Fine," she repeated, and he nodded.

The rolling had stopped, or at least grown less frequent, so the two of them struggled up from the bunk and picked their way up the steps to the deck. The wind was high, and they were moving with it; it felt like flying, Rodney thought. A flash of lightning lit up everything, and for an instant he saw John kneeling in the bow, leaning forward, and Rodney knew from the set of John's shoulders that he was grinning. Dithra laughed. "We've got plenty of room," she shouted over the wind, "and the storm is calming."

"Wet," Rodney corrected, but to Teyla and he smiled, and she smiled back. The wind lifted her hair and his heart jumped with pleasure to see her. He kissed her forehead and they stood together, arms wrapped around each other. All would be well, Rodney knew, without knowing how he knew.

He was right, Dithra was right: they were fine and all was well. The little engine coughed a few times and Rodney planned to work on it at first light. But it kept them going and the wind slowly died, the lightning moved away until he could see only occasional distant flashes on the horizon. Teyla surprised him by mopping out the little galley and the V-berth, so he went down to help her. The work seemed to do her good; she'd stopped shaking and her colour had returned and when things were tidy again, she sat down and began to comb her hair. Shyly, Rodney stood behind her, gently took the wooden wide-toothed comb from her, and slowly worked it through the damp tangles, working free the knots.

When they went above again, the sky was finally lightening in the east, the palest rose and yellow above the dark sea. No more whitecaps broke, and the terrible shaking of the boat had stopped. "When it's safe, I want to look at the engine," he told Dithra. Though it was powered by crystals not unlike what he was used to on Atlantis, it was only a two-stroke cylinder and had swallowed a lot of seawater during the storm.

"As soon as it's fully light, we'll anchor. Have breakfast, get some rest, then head back towards land," she agreed. He yawned, and she laughed. "Definitely get some rest."

"Come on," John said, tapping Rodney's shoulder and surprising him. "Let's get breakfast started for the ladies."

"Mmm, _kaisti_," Dithra said, and then she yawned.

"_Kaisti_," Rodney agreed. "And I saw some eggs, and there's bread left from last night, and cheese." He followed John down the companionway and into the galley. They worked well together even in such tight quarters, John beating eggs for cheese omelets while Rodney toasted the bread, sharing the first slice with John. He hesitated before eating his share; he wanted to ask John how he was doing, how he thought Teyla was doing, but they didn't say things like that. Not to each other.

"John?" Teyla called down. John and Rodney exchanged looks, then removed everything from the two burners and went topside. Rodney said, "What's that?" at the same time Teyla and John did. He looked to Dithra.

"I don't know," she said. All four of them stared out across the bow at the enormous building floating on the water. "I've never been out this far; it isn't safe."

"Oh, hell, no," Rodney muttered. He and John went forward into the bow and, grasping the railing, leaned out even more.

"Not Ancient," John murmured.

"Definitely not Ancient," Rodney agreed.

Despite its enormity, definitely not Ancient architecture; this was boxy and ugly. Dithra began to turn the _Lilac Wine_ away from it, but John said, "No, get closer, Dithra." She hesitated, and Rodney knew she was struggling with John's request. She glanced back at the distant shore, barely visible, and then at the enormous thing floating in front of them. Then she straightened her back, nodded at John, and steered them nearer. The closer they got, the taller the ship, or maybe floating building, was revealed, until it looked like one of the ice cliffs in Antarctica Rodney had dreaded flying over. He had to tilt his head all the way back to see the top.

Up close, the box hummed. "Shit," John said, but waved at Dithra to get closer still. "Hear that? An engine?"

Rodney wished for his life signs detector, lost in the earlier chaos. The hair on his arms stood out, and it felt like the hair on his head, too -- pulled toward the box. The _Lilac_ moved closer, about six meters away, and then a little wave sloshed them even closer. "Like the Borg," he said, "really alien, and . . ." He held his hand out, leaned forward enough that John grabbed him by the PFD. "I can feel it," he said, marveling. "We have to get on it. In it." He looked back at John. "This is --"

The hum or whir it was making increased in volume abruptly, and equally abruptly, the sea fell flat, ironed out; the waves simply stopped. "Turn off the engine," Rodney called back to Dithra. She frowned but did so. They all stood silently, listening. Rodney gripped the railing more tightly; he could feel the vibration through it. Tiny ripples spread out from the thing -- was it a ship? Not a sailing ship, but an alien ship? "How do we get up there?"

John had Dithra maneuver around the enormous thing. It wasn't truly a box -- not precisely square, not even rectangular, but all hard, ninety-degree edges, even the low wide steps over which the water splashed at one corner. That did remind Rodney of Atlantis, but only that; this was ugly and frightening, while Atlantis was beautiful and comforting. It was so big and such a strange shape -- such an alien shape -- that he had trouble re-assembling it in his mind. Then he saw his chance and, knowing John would follow, scrambled over the bow, John holding him steady until he was climbing the steps on his hands and knees. John did follow. "This is such a bad idea," Rodney called down; Teyla nodded, arms folded. Dithra backed the boat away and then held it steady.

"I hope you know what you're doing," John said as he followed Rodney up. Rodney felt compelled to make a scoffing sound, but he knew that John knew that he didn't have a clue. He also knew that John was just as compelled as he to take these stairs. If he hadn't led the way, John would have.

The stairs were odd -- maybe they weren't stairs at all -- and made abrupt turns, but they stayed shallow and broad and easy enough to climb. Rodney had no sense of motion, of being on the water, as there was in the _Lilac Wine_. From the water, this thing had looked pristine, just created, but climbing on his hands and knees he could see pits and scars indicating weathering.

The thing's hum was deep, barely audible now, almost subsonic, and he definitely felt it through his hands and even his feet. He really wanted to be back in the _Lilac Wine_ with Teyla, and he wanted John there, and he wanted to be far away from this freaking weird thing he was standing on.

Near the top, he saw that another set of stairs that merged with the set he was on. Placed as they were, he was less certain that they were stairs, though. He paused and John moved next to him. "It's warm," John said. "Really warm."

"Shit," Rodney said, wishing again for his life signs detector. He rested his hand next to John's; the material beneath it _was_ warm. They sat down.

"Any ideas?" John asked.

Rodney looked over the surface: hard irregular, a weathered ivory colour smudged with guano. "I know what this is," he said suddenly.

"Well, what?" John snapped.

"A landing platform," he said. "Something similar to a _ha'tak_." At John's look, he continued, "The largest of the Goa'uld ships. Ra's _ha'tak_ fit onto a pyramid."

"Daniel Jackson's theory," John said.

"It was no theory."

"You're not seriously suggesting the Goa'uld were in Pegasus?"

Rodney narrowed his eyes at John. "I said it was _similar_ to a _ha'tak_. No, the Goa'uld were never here. I don't think." He paused, then shook his head. "No. Definitely not."

"If it isn't Ancient, does that mean no ATA, uh, interactivity?"

"It isn't your fault," Rodney said quickly. "Not everything that happens in this galaxy is your fault." John bumped shoulders with him.

The hum began to increase in volume; Rodney wondered if his bones would shatter from the intensity. "We need to get out of here and back to Pastorsinus and the stargate."

"What's happening?" John asked as they began to work their way back down.

"John! Rodney!" Teyla shouted at them. They came around a corner of the floating landing platform to find Dithra holding the _Lilac Wine_ steady, Teyla leaning over the bow.

The hum got even louder. Rodney could feel the surface vibrate beneath him, so violently that he nearly slipped.

"Get off that thing!" Dithra bellowed. Rodney restrained himself from snapping at her; he was too busy trying not to fall. Teyla took his arm as he half threw himself onto the _Lilac Wine_, then turned to help John aboard.

The landing platform shuddered, ripples shivering outward from it as its oscillations grew. "Go!" John shouted to Dithra. She cut the boat sharply, swinging the bow around, and revved the engine. Rodney braced himself against the cabin. The water around them flattened and trembled even as Dithra cut through it.

As if drawn by the platform's oscillations, clouds began to build: dark, thick, almost purple. A thin mist covered Rodney's face and arms as the clouds sank lower. He wished again for some kind of equipment; he wondered if it was a visual hallucination that the water around the platform was sinking, and that Dithra's boat was labouring uphill.

"What was that thing?" Dithra asked. She stood with her back to the bow, steering without looking. Not that there was anything to run into, Rodney noted. Behind them, the platform -- he was utterly convinced that it was a landing platform -- could barely be seen, but he could still hear and feel its vibration, and see its effect on the surface of the ocean.

"How deep is it here?" he asked Dithra.

She considered. "Here? Maybe seventeen thousand _pous_." He looked blankly at her. "_Pous_? Ah, as long as your foot."

"That deep," he said, studying the bizarrely rippled water. He tried to calculate the power emanating from the platform to effect this volume of water. "What an energy source."

The sky grew darker, almost like an eclipse, he thought; the clouds thickened, purpled, with deep green tinges to them.

"Ugly," John said to him over the whine of the engine and the heavy pressure of the landing platform. "Like tornado weather."

"Oh, that's just great," Rodney said, trying to remember everything he knew about meteorology. "A tornado. In the middle of the ocean in a small boat. Wait, wouldn't that be a waterspout?"

"I said it looked like tornado _weather_," John shouted. The noise was steadily increasing. Teyla put her hands over her ears. Dithra faced forward, peering ahead and then pointing. They were finally back in sight of the coast, and the relief on Dithra's and Teyla's faces made Rodney feel guilty that he'd insisted they explore. But not too guilty.

The sea was still eerily flat and the sky hung even lower. He checked his watch; the barometric pressure had fallen significantly in the last thirty minutes. He wondered if climbing the platform had triggered the change in the weather, or if it was just a coincidence.

"There is a cove not far," Dithra said. "We can pull in there."

Rodney liked the idea very much. He wanted solid ground beneath his feet, but a quiet cove would do.

Then the rain began, heavy sheets, like buckets of tossed water. They were instantly drenched and Rodney gasped, spitting out rain water. Dithra skillfully navigated them into the cove, a narrow-mouthed stretch of water that opened onto low sloping hills once they out of sight of the ocean. The thrumming noise of the platform receded until all Rodney could hear was Dithra's little engine and the slapping of rainwater on the ocean and deck. The rain fell even harder, but Rodney felt safer here.

They dropped anchors fore and aft, then went below to change. Rodney was surprisingly okay stripping in front of the others, even in front of Dithra, and very happy to drape a dry sheet around him.

"Toga, toga," John murmured to him, and they laughed, glancing cautiously at Teyla. Laughter wouldn't feel appropriate for a long, long time, Rodney was sure. Out of guilt, he shooed Teyla and Dithra into the crowded berth, then fixed _kaisti_ while John, following Dithra's instructions, found a tin of sweet biscuits, what Rodney had thought were gingersnaps.

"My gram makes them," Dithra said, taking two. Rodney waited till John had eaten one and nodded before he tried one.

"Really, really good," he said through a mouthful. Buttery like shortbread, with a sweet frosting and something like coconut flaked on top; they only smelled like ginger.

The four of them sat on the bunk, squashed together, eating and drinking in relative silence. Dithra brushed her hands together, swallowed down the last of her _kaisti_, gave the mug to Rodney, and put her arms around Teyla, who began to cry in a painful, silent way.

Instantly Rodney wanted to be anywhere else in the galaxy. Teyla's pain was unbearable. He was excellent at not thinking about things and he had worked steadily at not thinking about Ronon and Torren.

He swallowed the last of his biscuit with difficulty, and set about tidying up. Dithra had a special closet to dry clothes in, so he hung their wet things in it. He helped John with their few dishes, and then stood with him in the opening of the companionway watching the storm.

"It's subsiding," John said. He was right. The clouds' elevation had increased, and the rain had lightened, though it was still very dark in the direction he thought they had come from.

Then John grabbed his arm and pointed to the sky. Rodney stared, trying to follow John's directions. "What?" he said, leaning toward John.

"There!" John said. "It's moving -- see?"

Rodney knew that John was long-sighted, but this was ridiculous; had he grown that nearsighted? "There!" John said again.

Rodney turned his head slightly away from the direction John pointed and, as he'd hoped, he caught a glimmer of something from the corner of his eye. A tiny spark, dull silver, in the deeper grey of the sky. "What is it?" he asked, trying to focus on it.

They watched together as the spark grew, darkened, and resolved into a diamond shape with blunt edges. "That's it!" Rodney shouted, stepping into the rain. He put his hand above his eyes to shield them from the rain, straining to see better.

The thing sank lower until only wisps of clouds hid it, but it remained distant, the size of Rodney's thumbnail.

John put his hand on Rodney's shoulder, pulling him back into the companionway and out of the rain. "We can't follow it," he said into Rodney's ear. Rodney opened his mouth to argue but realized John was right. They couldn't. He stared out into the rain and watched the thing disappear: silent and seductive. Then he looked down at himself. His sheet was almost transparent from the rain; his skin clammy; his fingers numb.

"Shit," he finally said, and let John lead him down the companionway, through the galley, and into the little berth, where Dithra and Teyla lay huddled together. Teyla was still quietly weeping, and again Rodney felt a rush of sorrow and anger and frustration so powerful that he shuddered, and grabbed onto John's arm, gasping as if he'd been struck.

Their situation was intolerable, he thought wildly, looking at John's pale and drawn face, hearing Teyla's grief. He was unaccustomed to feeling so helpless. He solved problems; that ability defined him. But how could he solve this problem?

He realized that he was shivering when John's warm hand tugged at his arm. They found an oversized blanket, blue and worn soft by age, so Rodney let John hang the wet sheet in the drying closet while he wrapped the blanket around himself. Then they again crowded into the bunk, John and Rodney pressed against Teyla and each other. The death of Torren, whom he'd brought into the world -- he'd been the first person to see the baby -- and the loss of Ronon --

He shuddered, and forced himself to stop thinking about them. He thought instead about the enormous structure they'd found floating on the ocean when they'd been blown out to sea. Or had it pulled them out? Was he right, that what he and John had seen was the ship that fit on the platform? Was it like a _ha'tak_? Or a meteorite?

He was dry, and warm, and had two of the dearest people in the universe next to him. He lay back, closed his eyes, and slept.

Dithra said, "We're less than a day away from Pastorsinus, if nothing else happens."

"Good," John said. Rodney opened his eyes. Teyla was curled into his side, eyes closed, breathing quietly, but he could tell she was awake. John and Dithra were in the galley, and brilliant sunshine fell through the companionway, splashing into the V-berth where he lay.

Rodney crawled out of the bunk, trying not to disturb Teyla, through he stroked her arm as he stood. He grabbed the blanket he'd had wrapped around him, but in the close quarters, he'd had to give up on modesty. John silently handed him his clothes, now warm and dry, his face somber. Dithra went above, and as he dressed, he heard the little engine start up. Less than a day; they'd be back at the stargate tonight. If the stargate was above water.

Nothing to do but wait and see. Rodney fucking hated waiting. He reluctantly left Teyla in the bunk, fixed three mugs of _kaisti_, and carried them on deck. They had already left the little cove and were puttering up the coast, back toward Pastorsinus.

He leaned next to John, who had a map of the region spread out. Between Pastorsinus and the Port of Good Hopes, the coastline looked like an enormous C tilted on its back, so the port was farther west than Pastorsinus. John tapped his finger on the map over the cove where they'd spent the night, and then slowly drew his finger eastward, away from the landmass. "Dithra says we were about here yesterday afternoon."

Rodney understood what John was thinking. If the puddlejumper hadn't been too badly damaged by the flood waters, they could fly over it, see if it was still there, whatever it was. He wondered what they would find in Pastorsinus. Everything had been chaos when they'd left, fleeing with so many others on the ferry. The stargate and jumper -- the entire city -- had already been underwater when they'd escaped. He sighed, and looked around them. Dithra was keeping the _Lilac Wine_ near shore, and he was grateful to her.

Leaning against John in the early morning sunshine was very comfortable. Rodney yawned and blinked. He was so tired. He drank his _kaisti_, but his stomach growled and he yawned into John's neck. He felt John shiver, and remembered that impulsive kiss they'd shared the day before. His breath caught, and he turned to look at John's profile. The silver in John's sideburns glinted in the morning light, and as Rodney watched, the smile lines near his eyes and mouth crinkled. John turned to him. "Hey," Rodney whispered.

The past few days had been too much, he thought, staring into John's eyes. They'd proven what Rodney had already known: that life was too brief, humans too fragile, pleasures too rare, and that pain formed the bedrock of life. He could barely catch his breath, as if he'd been running for a long time, maybe chasing after John, he thought. He turned more fully to John, leaned slowly toward him, watched John's eyes close, and then kissed him.

Maybe not the worst kiss ever, he thought, clutching at John's bony shoulders, pushing him against the gunwale, holding him fiercely, and John kissed him back with the same ferocity, then pulled Rodney into the bow, where the wind blew hardest, the air sweet and fresh. They began to kiss again, Rodney running his hands up John's arms, down his back, then wrapping around him. He had to pull away; he couldn't breathe, he found himself taking enormous gulps of breath and making a terrible gasping noise, his nose ran, he --

He looked up at John and saw the same terrible grief distorting his face. He pulled John back to him, and they rested their faces against each other. Rodney understood that whatever was happening to him was happening to John as well, a different kind of tsunami, one of grief and loss and despair.

They stood together in the bow, balancing as the _Lilac Wine_ cut through the waves, until they were shaking with cold and damp with spindrift. At last, Rodney wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffed, and let John lead him back to the companionway and out of the wind. Rodney caught Dithra's eye; she smiled sadly at him, and blew her nose on an enormous embroidered pink handkerchief. He laughed, cleared his throat, and said to John, "More tea, I think. Mum always said tea cured all ills."

They made tea. Teyla was still in bed, though sitting up, back against one wall. She looked frail to Rodney. He brought her a jar of the hot _kaisti_ and sat on the edge of the bunk, one hand on her feet beneath the covers. She sipped at the steaming hot drink, not meeting his eyes. John brought Rodney's _kaisti_, then slouched against the drying cupboard door, watching them with hooded eyes. At last, Rodney said, "Come up, Teyla. Some fresh air would be good." John stroked her hair, and she nodded. He took her half-empty jar and drew back the covers; John brought her thick socks, as pink as Dithra's handkerchief, and then her boots. Rodney draped a blanket around her and then they both helped her up the companionway and out on deck. Dithra smiled welcomingly, and motioned for them to come back to her. She seated Teyla next to her, and then Rodney finally looked around.

Dithra had brought them ever closer to shore, he saw, and Rodney understood why. For the first time, they could see the effects of the tsunami on the land. Water still glinted between the trees high above the shore line, but the shore itself was a mess: torn up trees, what was probably a pier scattered, a fence with brush caught in it. He thought he could tell how high the water had gone by the tilt of the taller trees and the stuff caught in their branches. He glanced at John.

Teyla said, "The sun is so bright. It seems impossible for such beauty to exist at the same moment as such devastation."

No one else spoke. As they puttered closer to Pastorsinus, Rodney could see more clearly a kind of high-water ring of rubbish. The water was calm, small waves washing ashore, a light breeze blowing inland, not a cloud in the sky. Yet he felt a terrible apprehension: fear, he realized, that something would happen. What he'd experienced had been so sudden and unexpected: no tremors, no warning, nothing. The five of them had been looking forward to this mission for some time; Kanaan had been planning to come as well, but a cousin had died unexpectedly and he returned to New Athos for the ceremony. He'd insisted that Teyla and Torren stay in Atlantis and come here, because he knew how much she'd been looking forward to spending time in such a relaxed and beautiful place. As had Rodney. He wasn't one for sunshine, but with enough sunblock, a big hat, and a shirt that protected him from UV, he was ready to spend time in a hammock, balancing a laptop and sipping a cool drink, listening to John and Ronon plunk at their guitars while Teyla played with Torren.

That dream hadn't lasted very long. They'd brought medical supplies for the Foremost, the collective that governed Pastorsinus, and toys for the kids there. It was a popular destination for Atlantians because of the beautiful location and temperate weather; everyone competed to come on the trade missions.

John had landed the puddlejumper in his usual spot, not far from the stargate but out of the way of pedestrian travelers. Two representatives from the Foremost had greeted them warmly, and a number of people had helped them unload the cargo, Torren whining a bit because he wanted to play with the kids on the beach. Ronon had put him on his shoulders and continued unloading the jumper onto a kind of flatcar that was eventually steered to the Great House where supplies were stored.

They had just come outside again, Rodney stretching his aching back and complaining, quietly, about the manual labour when they saw the sea had drawn back. In the east, dark clouds had gathered, an ugly bruise against the pale sky, as if a knot of atmosphere and water had been gathered. "Run," Rodney had tried to say, his throat suddenly paper dry. The jumper was too far away, he saw. He met John's eyes, and they began to run, shooing the Pastorsinians with them up into the hills away from the beach.

Initially, some had gathered where the water revealed shellfish and echinoderms, crabs scuttling about, stranded fish flopping crazily, silver in the still bright sunlight. But John, of course, dashed closer, bellowing for them to run, then herding those he could uphill.

They all ran then, Rodney waiting impatiently for John to catch up to them, and then scrambling through the thick underbrush. He had no idea how high they should climb. Even as he ran, he was remembering the Boxing Day tsunami; though he'd been on Atlantis then, they'd all heard about it, and watched their laptop monitors in horror.

As Rodney ran, panting, ducking branches and other people, he tried to remember how much time before the water would come rushing back -- minutes, he thought, and he scooped up a naked little boy wailing for his mother and ran faster. John was ahead and to his right; Teyla, carrying Torren, immediately to his left, and ahead of him ran Ronon carrying an old woman weeping into his shoulder, while others ran ahead of him. Rodney heard screams behind him and paused, clutching the little boy, and turned to watch the water rushing back. "Jesus," he heard John say.

The brush was so thick that he couldn't see well, but he saw the peak of the waves, dirty white, frothy, and the bulge of brown ocean behind it. "Shit," he whispered. He met John's eyes, looked at where they stood; they both turned and began to climb higher. They walked now; either it would get them or it wouldn't, he thought. Teyla fell in step beside him, and Ronon on the other side of John. Two young people, maybe the woman's children, stayed near them, glancing nervously over their shoulders.

Rodney wasn't sure what he was hearing as they climbed. People around them were trying to catch their breath, the kids were scared and crying, but he also heard screams behind them, and a dull roar, then a vibration beneath his feet. Crunching noises, as if the water were eating the land. A strange smelling wind pushed past them, nearly knocking Rodney to his knees, but John caught him. "Enough," Rodney gasped, and turned and sat.

Soon an audience formed, sitting on the ground, on fallen logs, leaning against each other, watching what little they could see through the thick foliage. Far at sea, the ocean looked the same: calm, blue, peaceful. At the horizon, the ugly knot of cloud seemed fainter, as if it were a fist unclenching. Rodney wondered about the jumper, and the stargate. The gate he expected to be fine; they were built to last. Not even lava could melt one, he knew, though it could bury it and render it useless. They might have to walk through the gate, but when the water left, they could go home. He was sure of that.

After an hour or so, the children became restless, so the adults formed a play area to let them run about and laugh and recover, but they kept them high in the hills. Some wanted to go home, some to find their friends, a few to find their brothers or sisters, and one or two older kids did slip away. Let them, Rodney thought. He'd want to find Jeannie, were he in their situation. As it was, he kept checking to be sure that John, Teyla, and Ronon were still beside him.

To his horror, he heard a shout from someone higher up: _It's coming back!_ He rose shakily. This would be smaller, he told himself. The first is the biggest. He actually wasn't sure, but it sounded logical, and he wanted it to be true.

"We should have gone down there, seen if anyone needed help," John said. Ronon put a hand on his shoulder, perhaps to keep him from running back down. They stood in a clump, trying to see, but even this high, their clearest vision was of the horizon, where the sky had darkened again.

Rodney remembered that now, watching the shoreline as Dithra slowly motored them parallel to it. He felt a sudden conviction that the tsunami hadn't been caused by seismic activity but by whatever they'd found out there. It was as though the platform or whatever it was had drawn the water to it. He remembered how when it had started vibrating the water had flattened around it and the eerie sensation of climbing the water as the engine struggled.

"This was done to us," Rodney murmured. Teyla looked up at him, but John stared ashore, nodding. "Yeah," he finally said, his voice soft and deep and sad.

Maybe it had been an accident, an artifact, but whatever had happened, it had destroyed Pastorinus. And it had taken Ronon and Torren. Rodney shuddered, feeling suddenly cold and achy to his very bones.

He barely remembered their mad dash to the ferries. The Pastorsinus-Port of Good Hopes ferry had been in port and smashed into the beach, but another had just been arriving when the second wave had hit. The captain had kept her at sea where the swells were only a few feet higher than usual, and after the water pulled back, he'd brought her in as close to shore as possible. People swarmed to the boat: some swimming, some in makeshift canoes, while others waited for her two lifeboats to come in even closer. John had wanted Teyla and Torren to immediately board the ferry, but she had insisted on staying with them, helping others aboard, calming them. When another ferry arrived, Rodney had relaxed -- he was sure everyone would fit on the two. Looking back, he realized how foolishly optimistic that certainty had been; how could an entire town, however small, fit aboard two ferries? He excused himself: he'd been in shock.

When the first ferry was full almost to dangerous levels, the second ferry took her place, and Rodney and his team continued helping people aboard. By now, he was exhausted, and he had no idea how Teyla was managing. Ronon had taken Torren again, tied him to his chest with a shawl some woman had given him, but still, it was hard work: the people were so frightened, as frightened as Rodney, and they just kept coming.

Then the third wave was spotted. Ronon climbed aboard and seized John, dragging him onto the deck. Rodney pushed Teyla up from the bobbing craft and followed her, crawling away from the deck so others could come aboard. Rodney closed his eyes to the people left behind; he tried to close his heart to them as well as the ferry began to turn, the crew shouting, the engine whining louder and louder, and then they were away, leaving weeping and screaming people behind.

He had thought that was the worst moment of his life.

Shading his eyes, Rodney saw that they were almost to Pastorsinus. The port sat at the farthest east point at the bottom of the C-shaped land mass, but the little town straggled along the shore for over a mile. That was what Rodney liked about it; how beautifully the homes and businesses had been set among the trees and sparkling streams that rushed down from the hills above them. A few communal areas had been cleared -- for the weekly market, a playground, the stargate -- but most of the town was deeply shaded right down to the glittering beaches.

Now, everything was covered in slabs of mud, stinking in the sun. Many of the trees were just gone, leaving patches of bare wet ground; many were toppled into ugly abstract piles As the _Lilac Wine_ drew nearer, Rodney wrinkled his nose at the sickly sweet scent of death. He knew that scent too well; no physicist should know it at all. Suddenly, Dithra called, "My lady, come sit with me."

Teyla sighed, and turned away from the shore to make her way to Dithra in the cockpit. Rodney watched with approval as they talked quietly to each other, and as Dithra put her arm around Teyla's shoulders. He felt John at his side and leaned into his quiet strength. Neither spoke. They watched the land slip by in silence.

Rodney straightened. The stargate was above water. Its base well sunk in mud that the water had pushed up to it, but it was clear. He couldn't see the puddlejumper. He looked at John, who nodded; he'd seen it, too. Small watercraft were everywhere, as if picked up and slammed down by an angry giant. Now they could see people moving about, trying to clean up. A make-shift pier thrust into the water and Dithra nosed the _Lilac_ in its direction.

Rodney rubbed his face nervously. He didn't know what to expect. He didn't know how to behave. Startling him, John took his arm, wrapping his left arm under Rodney's right, and then patting Rodney's forearm with his right hand. Rodney squeezed nearer, grateful for John's presence. Rodney realized he was shaking, he gasped for breath, and again, his throat thick, his vision blurring; then John turned him so he could rest his face against John's shoulder, and he felt John trembling beneath him. He clung to John harder, heard a pained noise, whether his or John's he didn't know nor did it matter. John's arms held him tighter, like iron bars around him, and he hung on just as tightly.

He raised his face and took an enormous breath. John gazed at him, his face and eyes red, shiny in the beautiful sunlight. Rodney touched John's face tenderly, shaking his head at his inability to speak, hoping John understood. Impulsively he touched his lips to John's, right there in the bay, in front of Teyla and Dithra, and John kissed him back, then they rested their foreheads together, breathing together in the Athosian way until Rodney's heart slowed and he could unclench his hands from John's shirt.

"Sorry," he whispered shakily.

"No," John said. "I'm not."

"Cool," Rodney said, and sighed again, exhausted. He sniffled, and they looked to shore.

Two men and a woman waited for them at the end of the jerry-built pier. John went forward and tossed them a line, while Rodney went aft and waited. He didn't recognize any of the people, but they greeted each other as old friends. "Welcome, welcome," they said, and helped them ashore. "If you have family here, go to the stargate," the woman said, pushing two brilliant green pins deeper into her hair to keep it out of her face. "They are keeping lists."

"Dithra!" someone called, and Dithra cried out, nearly stumbling in her hurry. An older woman hobbled toward her, lurching from person to post to the next person until Dithra reached her and they knelt in the mud weeping.

"Mam, mam," Dithra repeated, stroking her mother's face and hair. "I thought you was lost for sure."

"I was up to your uncle's; we never knew a thing till we came to market," her mother said. "I thought you was gone forever."

John took Teyla's hand, then Rodney took the other, and they walked past Dithra and her mother. Dithra beamed up at them, then faltered. "I hope you find your people," she said.

"We can never repay you for your help," Teyla said in her precise voice, calm and measured.

"You already have, my lady. You brought me to my family. Bless you all."

"And bless you, Dithra," Teyla said. Rodney waved, feeling feeble, watching Dithra and her mother over his shoulder as they wound their way carefully through the debris up to the stargate.

Two long wooden tables had been moved next to the stargate, both covered with Pastorsinian-sized papers held in place with rocks. Names covered the pages, and many pictures as well. They didn't stop; there would be no names for them here.

Instead, they walked past the stargate to where the puddlejumper sat, covered in mud; its tiling had caught and held the mud till it was barely recognizable as a jumper. The windshield was chipped but had held, though it too was thick with mud. Pausing, they gazed at it for a while, until Teyla sighed and moved, tugging their hands, so they approached the jumper hand in hand. Rodney felt freighted with sorrow, his back and chest aching and he admitted to himself that he wanted nothing more than time and privacy to weep. He bit his lower lip and settled his shoulders. He would be strong for John and Teyla; they were burdened as well.

Then Teyla screamed and fell to her knees. Rodney seized her, but John bolted forward and suddenly Torren was in his arms, well and whole and bellowing for his mother. John delivered him to her and they knelt around her. Rodney cried then, really cried, harder than he had in years, his head on Teyla's shoulder as she wept over Torren, his hand clutching John's over Teyla's back.

A shadow fell over them and without looking Rodney knew it was Ronon; he could feel Ronon's presence the way he could feel the sunshine when he walked outdoors. He cried harder, embarrassed but not ashamed, when Ronon crouched over them all, his arms around Rodney and John, holding them as they held Teyla and Torren.

Rodney didn't know how much time had passed when he finally had to move. "Oh god, my back," he groaned, and John laughed, his horrible bark that always made Rodney laugh in return. They stood slowly and stiffly, and then Ronon seized John around the waist and lifted him into the air. "Sheppard!" he shouted, setting him down gently and hugging him. He reached a long arm for Rodney who for once came willingly into Ronon's powerful embrace; he didn't even complain when he felt Ronon kiss the top of his head, right where his hair was thinning.

At last, he wiped his eyes and stood straight, hands on his lower back. Teyla was filthy with mud from the knees down, but her face was glowing. John kept his face averted, wiping his eyes with his upper arm. Ronon beamed at them all. "Okay," Rodney said. "Tell all. How the hell did you survive?"

Ronon shrugged. "Swam hard," he said.

Rodney knew there was more, but he also knew that Ronon would tell his story when he was ready and not a minute sooner. But Rodney also knew that Ronon would have swum around the world for Torren -- for any of them. If anyone could swim to shore through an alien-aircraft-caused tsunami, it would be his friend and teammate Ronon Dex.

He punched Ronon in the shoulder anyway, just on the principle of it.

"And Torren?" Rodney asked. "He swim hard, too?"

Ronon beamed at the boy, who was leaning against his mother, grinning up at Ronon. "Did exactly what I told him to."

"Thank you," Teyla said, her voice thready. She stood on her toes and kissed Ronon's cheek. "Thank you for saving my boy."

Ronon ducked his head, as shy as John could be. Then Torren began to tug at his mother for her attention again. Ronon pulled Rodney and John away a bit. "What happened to her face?" he asked, frowning at Teyla.

John said, "She fell. On the ferry, after -- when --"

After a moment Ronon said, "I didn't call Atlantis," and Rodney thought he looked a bit shamefaced. "I didn't want to tell Kanaan that Teyla was missing when the last I saw she was safe on board the ferry. So they don't know."

It seemed impossible to Rodney that Atlantis couldn't know what they'd been through, but they were supposed to spend a week here; it was a little vacation as well as a trade mission. He remembered his plan to doze in a hammock near the beach, to watch John teach Ronon to surf, to help Teyla and Torren build sandcastles. He remembered how much he'd looked forward to their time here, and his eyes found John, gazing at him.

"Good," John said at last, and Ronon's shoulders relaxed. "Good. No use worrying them unnecessarily."

Rodney wondered how Ronon had borne it, not knowing what had happened to them. "We should call now," he said. "They can send help through, get this place fixed up."

"Yeah," John agreed, but he didn't move to the DHD. He stared at Rodney, who stared back. Ronon rested his hands on their shoulders, then rejoined Teyla.

For a full minute Rodney stood there, waiting for John to do or say something, but finally he lost patience. "Oh for god's sake," he said, and pulled John to him. "I can't lose you," he whispered furiously into John's ear. "Do you get that? I figured it out; did you?"

"Yeah," John said slowly, so Rodney kissed him, sharp and sweet and almost angry. He didn't like needing people as much as he needed John. He had barely managed when he thought Ronon and Torren were gone; he knew he wouldn't manage when it was John. Just as slowly as he'd spoken, John kissed him back; Rodney felt himself relaxing into the kiss, into John's embrace; deciding to risk all, he slid a hand down John's back and cupped his ass. John jumped as if surprised, but kissed Rodney harder and pushed against him until they stopped kissing to laugh. As they had on the _Lilac Wine_, they rested their foreheads together, this time stealing small kisses until Ronon said, "McKay! Sheppard!" and they found Teyla smiling at them, Torren in her arms sucking his thumb.

"Um," John said.

"Perhaps we should dial Atlantis," Teyla said, and a smile blossomed on her face. The most beautiful smile in the galaxy, Rodney thought. He rubbed his eyes, cleared his throat, and said with heavy annoyance, "I'll do it. As usual." But John pressed the glyphs with him, and they all stood together as the stargate boiled open, bringing them help, taking them home.


End file.
